


Stand By Me

by starwlkers



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Animal Death, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1355182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwlkers/pseuds/starwlkers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They find him like he had found Abigail Hobbs. Blood spurting from the deep gash in his neck and staining the white tile floors of his own kitchen, with the look of complete utter fear etched onto his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand By Me

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to Stand By Me and things got a little out of hand. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

They find him like he had found Abigail Hobbs. Blood spurting from the deep gash in his neck and staining the white tile floors of his own kitchen, with the look of complete utter fear etched onto his face. He briefly wonders if this is how Abigail felt as she collapsed to the ground, tossed from her father’s arms like a used doll, knowing that she was going to die, knowing that one of her most precious people was going to be her end.

He can still feel the sting of the hunting knife’s blade kissing the soft skin of his throat. The arms grabbing him from behind and the gentle caress of light breathing on the back of his neck and then he is gone.

Will is left to lie in a puddle of his own, warm blood.

His body is going into shock, that much he knows. His chest is heaving unevenly and he can’t properly catch his breath. He wonders which he one he’d pass out from first, hyperventilation or blood loss? The man who did this, the suspect they had been hunting for the last two weeks, is pacing in his living room, running bloody hands through his hair and over his face. He’s mumbling to himself and his eyes dart wildly from the door to Will. He doesn’t know what to do. He has finally lost control.

“No, no, no…” The knife is gripped tightly in his hands.

The dogs have finally gotten curious of the ruckus and trot back in. They swarm the man, growling and bearing their teeth. The suspect kicks the closest dog, Cal, and yells.

“Get away from me! Get away from me!”

Winston is at Will’s feet, knows his master is in distress but is unsure of what he is to do. So he whines and lays down, noses at Will’s feet, willing him to move.

There are six shots.

There is no more growling or the tapping of claws on hard wood.

Will can’t bring himself to imagine what he knows must be true. He hopes the blood loss gets him before the hyperventilation can. He doesn’t know for sure how long he’s been on the floor but with each passing moment he knows he is growing closer to finally meeting Charon and the gates of death. He moves slowly, can’t bring himself to move much faster, turns over on his stomach and begins to belly-crawl toward the dining table where his gun is.

He keeps a hand tightly presses to his wound tightly enough to nearly cut off air flow. The suspect hasn’t noticed him yet, still in the process of a very dark mental breakdown. He grunts in pain and is off balance from blood loss, his vision blurs but he manages to grab the table cloth hanging from the table and pull down his gun. Will doesn’t even hear the sound of it going off or the body of the serial killer dropping to the floor. He just watches as the room begins to blur and the darkness catches up with him.

Winston follows him and whines again. Will wishes he could gather the strength to comfort him.

Just as he becomes blind to the world he can hear the sirens break through the silence. His front door is pushed open and there is a band of feet marching in.

“Will!”

Jack.

There are warm, calloused hands wrapping around his neck, forbidding anymore blood from escaping. “You must keep your eyes open, Will.”

Hannibal.

Will opens his eyes with great struggle. A weight he has grown accustomed to during restless nights has come back to him full force. He meets Hannibal’s eyes not for the first time but still it’s one of the few times and as he stares up into his doctor’s strange maroon eyes he wonders if this is what it is like to stare up at the face of god.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

Someone is holding his hand, rubbing their thumb along his wrist. Will opens his eyes to see an always calm looking Doctor Lecter, even with blood stain his sleeves and smeared onto his skin. The doctor smiles once more and assures him of where they are, that they will at the hospital soon enough.

Will blinks and sees Garrett Jacob Hobbs in the place of Doctor Lecter. Garrett Jacob Hobbs smiles and leans in closer. “ _See, see, see?”_

He can’t find it in himself to breathe and his heart races under his skin. The dead man shifts into the creature that haunts his dreams. No more man than animal. It looms over him, smiling, its antlers prick at his skin and leaves deep red welts, marking him. Will cries out and digs his nails into the soft flesh of his hand.

_My name is Will Graham._

The creature still looms over him. He can feel its breath brush his cheeks like a winter chill.

_It is sometime after eight pm._

A voice is calling his name but he his drowning in his own thoughts. The words are all muffled and he cannot make out the rest.

_I am in an ambulance._

“Will.”

_I am awake. I am awake._

“Will.” The voice is louder this time, pulling him from the depths of his mind.

Will opens his eyes and meets Hannibal’s eyes once more.

This is not the face of god but perhaps something very close to it.


End file.
